


Fading and Fuzzing

by cosinecross (hanihyunsu)



Series: Rainbow [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Accidents, Anger, Angst, Band Break Up, Band Fic, But no idea what, Depression, France (Country), Frustration, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt No Comfort, I Don't Even Know, Idols, Japanese Character(s), Korean Characters, Multiracial Character, Muteness, Postpartum Depression, References to Depression, Russia, Singing, Spain, Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-17 11:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16515725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanihyunsu/pseuds/cosinecross
Summary: Zion Gremilvo is a part of a band. What an idol's stage persona isn't always who they actually are.=Inner conflicts of the perfectly perfect band=





	1. Neither

 

The first thing he sees was the wooden ceiling. It still has the weird circles on it but at least he knew he was in the right room. The bed feels warm from his body, and before he can fall asleep again, he rolled off.

"Ow! Ugh," he groaned out.

His forehead hit the ground first before his reflexive arm. He sighed in defeat. What a great start for the day. He walked to his closet with a default frown on his face.

He grabbed some hangered clothes and hanged them by his bathroom doorknob. With a quick glance at the mirror to his right, he noticed the sore spot on his forehead. Stupid floor, wanting a kiss from his beautiful face. Tsk.

He went inside the tiled bathroom and inhaled the weird scent of powder. It almost made him unable to breath, but with the first splash of water on his face, he can finally breath again.

There is something always missing in that room. He is still not used to smelling only powder on his bathroom. He remembered smelling roses, but those fresh white roses died already.

What a shame. Should he buy roses again? Maybe some air freshener at the rose scent may do wellーit will last longer. He just shrugged at his reflection. "Whatever works," he mumbled to himself.

Leaning closer, he inspectioned his perfectly maintained face for impurities planted on the course of the night. Still no pimplesーgreat. He was about to grab the mouthwash, but he frantically looked back at his reflection.

In the tiniest bit of his undereyes grewーoh noーthe tiniest sign of dark circles. He needed to inform his makeup artist tomorrow at the recording studio. He needed to film a new music video tomorrow and he cannot look like a zombie at his own video.

Wow, he thought. How come I gained dark undereyes circles?

He stood straightly, seeing that the dark area cannot be seen in such distance anyway. He grabbed his cup and rinsed it before gurgling the morning taste away from his mouth with his mouthwash.

He wasted no time and went back downstairs. The hallway was quiet; a typical scene he had encountered for a while now. He lived in a quiet town anyway, away from the press and the media. People thought he lived in that condominium that was heavily guarded in the heart of the city when in reality, he lives in this grassy town surrounded by fields of wheat. It's quite nostalgic, you know? It brings back memories of him running around the wheat with--

He stopped. Right, he needed breakfast already. He rushed down, sliding occasionally on his mismatched socksーone striped and one polka-dotted. One was obviously smaller for his feet, and he shook his head away from the thought.

He hopped down the stairs and rushed to his kitchen, pulling out some cereal and milk. He had no reason to cook pancakes this morning, or rather any reason to cook in general. They ran out of syrup and everyone knows that pancakes don't taste that good without some quality syrup.

He pulled out his phone.

5:56am.

Quite early.

He looked at his kitchen window and saw some cars passing by. It must be his office-worker neighbors. He pities them a lot, actually. They go to work really early, go back really late and some of them even had work to do at the little time they had at home.

Before he knew it, his bowl was empty. He put the bowl in the sink. He didn't even bother washing them; he will call some maid from his actual house to clean it up later. He rushed back upstairs.

It was plain obvious he avoided the other set of stairs parallel to this one; it just bore memories, you know?

He went back to his room and almost sprinted and did an olympic long jump to the tub. He grabbed some of his best bath salt, candles and soap and started to fill up the tub with water.

He immediately set his phone on the counter and played some ambient music. Not too relaxing though; he may find himself drowning because he fell asleep on the tub.

The lights in his bathroom were automatically dimmed to his personal preference when the tub was filled with water. He smiled.

Technology nowadays...

He lit some candles by the side before undressing himself. He folded his clothes neatly and submerged himself at the slightly cold waterーjust how he likes it. He still wonders why people like warm water baths; it doesn't feel refreshing for him. There is only one person he knew that likes warm water baths, and...yeah, that was it.

He grabbed some bath salt and mixed it in with the water, his mind setting in autopilot as he stirred mindlessly. He soon started to smell the powdery fragrance of his bathroom air freshener with the special scent of the candles and the salt.

Soon, like a habit, he closed his eyes and made circular shapes on his cheeks with the base of his palm. It makes blood circulation better and will make you look better as well. It was a technique he learned from....someone.

The ambient music almost made him doze off, so he decided that bath time was enough. The wrinkles on his fingers said the same thing. He frowned.

He missed the old days again. Where the house was filled with laughter and michievous pranks; annoying but nostalgic. It was all a huge shame, and he convinced himself that it was just a phase in his life. One day, he'll meet someone that will love him and they will create better and maybe the best memories ever. Someday....Just one day soon.

He shook his head. This is no time to think about it.

He stood up and took a quick shower to wash off the salts. He almost grabbed someone else's shampoo and conditioner, but he noticed the purple color of the bottle before he actually grabbed it.

He smiled hopelessly. Living in that house just made it impossible for him to not think about him at all. Friends are those that just dug too deep in youe heart that it makes you feel heavy and empty once they left, even temporarily.

His shampoo was a cheaper brand with green and black bottles for the shampoo and conditioner respectively. Despite growing his bank account with his fame and fortune, he still felt as if staying with his normal lifestyle was better than adjusting to the sudden changes. Staying in that house though; it doesn't seem to be a good idea at all.

He smiled again, not reaching his eyes.  There's nowhere he can escape his thoughts then?

He stepped out and grabbed the clothes he hanged by his bathroom door knob. It was a simple outfit of black with only the inner shirt gray and shoes white. Before he put on his cap and facemask, he brushed his teeth first.

He noticed the slight dark marks on his eyes again, but ignored it this time. He was far into a deep trance to ever care.  His fans won't likely be obsessed with him *that* much that they'll notice anyway, so he shrugged it off. After brushing his teeth, he grabbed his cheap racksack and went.

His outfit made him blend along with the normal people. Nobody in that town will suspect that he is a member of the 3rd highest selling group of artists and idols nationally.

He made sure to lock his house and bring along his car keys despite not driving that day. His walk was a long peaceful one, like a hitchhiker at the midnight mountain. It was just 6:45 am after allーa little early. The sun started rising at the east, which made him cover his head with the hood. He isn't a huge fan of the sun.

Soon, after the peaceful morning walk, he found himself entering the city. He immediately coiled his earphones and stashed them inside his bag; the city needs more attention to stay safe.

Damn, he knows how to blend well with the people. Many people wore facemasks that time of the year; partially because of spring and also because of some trend another idol set up.

He went into the train. It was quite crowded because of students and workers at the morning rush, so he had to stand until his stop. People didn't even pass him a stare despite occasional glances to his masked face before they shrug it off. They must be thinking, "There's no way that Zion Gremilvo will ride a train. This can't be him."

But who knows? He was Zion Gremilvo, the lead singer and rapper of a famous diverse-gender group, and he is riding a train. Who cares?

He stepped out when it was his stop, and inhaled the fresh air happily. He walked again until he reached a small park. That's when he raised his head and saw the white and red building beside the bicycle park. He just appreciated the fact that he made it to the hospital without getting lost. He was so out of his mind that morning. Who knows why?

He stopped by a nearby fruit store-on-wheels and brought a few fruits. He made sure to pick the purple onesーeven if he cannot be able to eat it, the aura of it will make his...friend happy enough to heal eventually. It will definitely make Zion and the other members glad.

He finally went inside. He pulled out his phone and saw the time was 8:37am. Quite late, if he had to say himself.  Did he seriously walk that long?

"Visitor for Jacques Sa--"

"OMG, is that you Zion?" he glanced up from his phone and saw the wide eyed staff member. He looked up at the sound of his stage name. His eyes gleamed up at the sight of another fan, as usual.

"Oh, yes. I would like to be unlisted though. You know, away from the media and stuff."

"O-of course!" The female staff typed in on her computer, shoulders and fingers quite stiff. Is it that shocking to see your idol right in front of your eyes? 

He nodded absent-mindedly as he just didn't realize that he treated the hospital like a hotel, requesting to be unlisted. He was about to walk away after flashing the lady a smile when, "C-can I get an autograph?"

He turned and saw a notebook that the lady handed him. "Sure. Just please keep in mind that I request to be unlisted and my visit to be a secret."

This was daily occurence that he reacted on autopilot due to the repeated events. He wakes up, washes face, eats breakfast, takes a bath, get dressed and walk to the hospital where some staff or patient will ask him for his autograph. The media  seemed to be ignorant about his regular checks in the local city hospital as a visitor, so his fans must be incredibly obedient.

This lady's notebook is an autograph book, he noticed. He noticed stage signatures of some of his fellow members and a few other celebritiesーsome are even based abroad. She was a hardcore fan, then.

"T-thank you." He waved and walked to the elevator, pulling down his facemask and taking off his snapback momentarily. His hair was still wet at the roots, so he brushed through it with his hand. He may have gone overboard with the shampoo this morningーhis hand now scented with menthol.

The elevator opened and nobody was early enough to pass by him luckily.

"Room 456, room 456, room 456," he chanted. The sunlight finally managed to seep through the pure white blinds and he can almost smell the morning sun's scent on his skin.

He finally saw the room he was looking for and grabbed the handle. He stopped.

Wow, he thought. It felt weird.

The thoughts of entering his friend's hospital ward just makes him uneasy everytime. It was very saddening and heavy, but he knew he wasn't guilty in any way. Why would he feel guilty anyway?

Without further thoughts, he pushed open the door slowly. He first noticed the lights that are dimmed to the eyes' comfort. Some hospital's lights are just too bright.

His eyes went to the small figure underneath the sheets, laying on the bed peacefully. "Goodmorning, Jac."

He greeted peacefully before sitting at the seat just beside the bed. He put the fruits in the bedside. He also caught a glance at the box beside the cabinet. It was filled with letters, possibly from fans sending  Get-Well-Soon cards to Jacques.

As if he can read them.

He looked at the peaceful face his friend had. His eyes are still closed, with a small frown on his sleeping face. His chest rose up and down with every breath he took. His black hair was also messy on the pillow, spread out on all directions.

Zion sat just beside his friend, bringing out his phone and earphones to listen to music again. Only the right earphone was plugged in his ear; he also liked the sound of his friend breathingーno! It wasn't like he was a creep or something. But what if Jacques woke up and he won't be able to hear it?

He leant on the bed post and closed his eyes. The music was one of his demos. It was never released, but it was a song about his childhood. He cannot help but think about his and Jacques's childhood. It was nice and cool back then, right?

That's when his subconscious kicks in.

You don't have to pretend anymore.

His jaw clenched; his eyes shutting tight. His throat suddenly felt dry, but his eyes weren't. He was terrified of opening them; will he break? In his friend's hospital ward, nonetheless?

But he did, and tears spilled from his eyes to his cheeks. His chest felt heavy and tight.

"Dammit Zion, calm down calm down calm down," he whispered to himself. Looking at the side, with the tempting melody playing in his ears, he eyed his friend's pale hand.

Absentmindedly, he grabbed it. It was so cold, yet the texture and feeling was familiar. The way he felt Jacques' calloused hand again....dear lord, it felt so nostalgic.

It must be from writing so much....or playing the guitar so much. Either way, it made his hand unique. The type of unique where you can guess the pattern of callouses to the right person.

Yet this time, it was cold and it didn't grab back. It was just laying there.

More tears fell down his face. His breaths became light, and he covered his eyes with his other hand. His left hand was squeezing the cold hand on his side hopelessly.

Nobody knew how miserable he actually was except Jacques. He wasn't always the "great troll of a singer" Zion Gremilvo of their band. He wasn't always the hearttrob rapper of their band. Or that semi-narcissistic Zion Gremilvo everyone knew. He wasn't always Zion Gremilvo.

In reality, he was just Zion Carriedo, the half-Spanish half-British kid in Korea who formed a band with other kids in various races. In reality, he was just Zion Carriedo, that kid who got picked on on grade school for suffering in selective-mutism. In reality, he was just Zion Carriedo, that kid with weird and sudden urges to be angry for some reason.

You can say that Zion Carriedo and Zion Gremilvo were entirely different. Zion Gremilvo is confident, happy and easy-going despite being a troll in social media, but Zion Carriedo is that quiet kid who suffers from an unindentifiable mental illness....possible depression.

He clenched his jaw harder. Nothing came from his pressed lips that small hiccups of cries.

He lost a loved one to depression some years ago. Seeing a body that once was really animated became the body that was laying on the bed with a bubbly mouth became one of the things he feared the most.

The thought of him even succumbing to this so-called depression makes him quiver inside. He can't be depressed! He doesn't want to be so desperate of escape from the pain. He doesn't want to be come to the point of suicide.

Yet, here he was: slowly killing himself inside by putting on his mask too well. Nobody, not even his closest fans or band members, suspect a thing. All his fans see was his new jacket (that looks exactly the same as his last one but they managed to figure out that it was new) and small things that are completely unrelated to what he wanted them to see.

It seemed that even if they suspect his problem, nobody would care. Maybe some of his fans will reach out to comfort him in social media, but what can it do? Who knows? Maybe they're lying?

The only one that notices was none other than Jacques. Not Jacques Samwell, but Jacques Sage. Jacques Samwell is none other than his band mate that is assigned to be the group's visual and songwriter. Jacques Sage is his childhood friend back in Wales. Jacques Sage is that scruffy British-French boy-next-door (literally, since they're neighbors) that romanticizes the stars, the universe and the night sky. Jacques Sage is that kid that chooses to play with this selective-mute kid named Zion instead of playing with the cooler kids. Jacques Sage is his friend that successfully defeated leukemia before.

Jacques Sage is Zion Carriedo's bestfriend. Much to their luck, Jacques Samwell is still Zion Gremilvo's bestfriend.

He calmed himself down. There he was again, crying like an idiot. If Jacques was awake, he'd be beaten right now. "Why in the name of grapes are you crying?" He can almost hear Jacques's voice scold him.

He took in a deep breath. He had reached his quota for crying today; maybe tomorrow again?

He stopped himself from crying. What if a nurse or something stopped by? Maybe even his fellow band members?

" _Aitai~_ "

"Holy shi---" He jumped from the sudden music blaring on his phone, straight to his poor ear. He looked at his phone and saw it was one of his bandmates, Crisan.

Knowing the band's hyperactive leader, he removed his earphones. "Hello?"

"Annyeong!" As expected, the leader greeted quite to giddily on the other line.

"Chill. I'm at Jacques' hospital you know. Speak English, I can't really speak Korean."

He swallowed. He sounded a bit too weird on that. "Hey. What's wrong with your voice? What did you drink last night?"

Thank God. Crisan thinks he's drunk. Weirdo. IF HE'S DRUNK THEN WHY IS HE AT JACQUES?!

"Uhm...Hennessy?" He bit his lip. "You know, I feel wasted. Why did you call me anyway?"

"I called because I think the door is locked."

"Door?"

That's when a knock resounded from the door. "Yep, that's me. I've been knocking for 3 minutes now. I came to check Jacques. The doctor said--"

Zion's eyes widened. Crisan was there for 3 minutes now?! What if he heard his cri--dammit.

Zion held his blacked-out phone and checked himself on the reflection on his phone. He did look wasted, but not drunk. He need to act drunk, dammit.

"What in the chocolate chip, Zion? Open the door..?" Crisan paused, "Omigod! Don't tell me you and Jacques--"

He immediately opened the door, just for the sake of stopping the sentence from being complete. There on the other side of the door wasn't just the their leader. There stood both Crisan and Ruko, the band's drummer.

"Woah. You look wasted. There's a shoot tomorrow," Ruko stated. Zion didn't pay attention; his eyes was fixed on Crisan.

That pitiful smirk on his face was too terrifying. Thank God that the japanese drummer interfered, not sensing the tension. "So how was Jacques?"

Ruko entered, with Crisan following with an odd look on his face. Zion just swallowed.

"Annie will be arriving later with Aena. I think Kin will be going too," the drummer stated, "Haruha, Fin and Axi won't be coming though; they'll be organizing the things with the venue and shoot tomorrow."

Crisan just stared at him with great intensity. The said leader was sipping some Starbucks coffee with his eyes focused on Zion. "Hey."

"Yes?" Zion replied, using the time to coil his earphones to keep.

"Fin visited yesterday. He told me he saw you at the rooftop, hovering over the edge," the leader said in a casual tone. The drummer looked between the two and just focused his attention on playing with Jacques's bedsheets.

Zion just swallowed, frozen into place. Of course, he should've known. Fin always visits during Tuesdays, doesn't he?

"I am just searching for someo--"

That's when the slightly shorter leader slammed his coffee on the table, earning a jump from the thin drummer and Zion.

"Stop with your rocky road lies, Zion. I thought we all agreed to stay alive until the end of our album?"

To his surprise, Crisan kept his voice low, yet the venom in his unsuspecting soothing (singing) voice is still present. The leader sighed, loosening his black scarf.

"Look, Jacques almost broke the promise. Don't tell me that you'll break it too?" Crisan walked closer, standing just a few inches away from the slightly taller brunette.

Zion stared. He paled, even. His leader, or so called Cris the Dictator is never to be underestimated. He knew Crisan, or Chris-Andrea Vasiliev in real life, will know sooner or later. The Russian leader knows his members very well.

Zion looked past the Russian. Behind him was Ruko, who is now absorbed in folding the napkins on the table into various things.

Ruko Takahashi is one hell of a surprise. His aggressive and so-called sexy persona on stage is really different from who he was off-stage. In reality, he is the group's peacemaker. 

How cunning of Crisan to bring Ruko along.

Zion can't blame anyone though. Fin is still the curious, childish maknae he was. Ruko is just being himself. Crisan is just concerned. Jacques is just being a friend.

"Look, Zion. Just look at Annie, Aena, Haruha and the others. They want another album and continue to legacy of our band. They gave their personal dream up for Fin, Jacques and you, Zion." Crisan narrowed his eyes at his rapper, staring up at him with confidence.

"Fin will be moving back to Canada for college. The two of you wanted to quit for some reason we don't know," Crisan leaned closer.

Zion knew it was a lie. Crisan, out of all people, would know what their reason is.

"...And you dare do that? Haven't you thought of the people you will leave if you decided to..."

Zion's eyes widened. Ruko even looked up from his napkin structures and stared at Crisan with concern. "We all lost someone we loved, Zion! That's the secret factor of why we were even grouped! We are a group of talented, multi-racial juveniles whose families are incomplete!"

All he saw in those blue eyes were anger. The blue eyes that shined with triumph on stage, the blue eyes that glinted with terrifying shine when he scares his members for fun...and now the blue eyes that stared at him with pure anger.

Crisan kept his hands at his sides, fists kept restrained. Zion just stared, realizing that his selective-mutism may have kicked in...though that was highly impossible; he wasn't mute anymore. He learned to speak, even sing.

"Don't you dare do it, Zion. Even if we finished the ham-sandwhich of an album, don't you dare kill yourself, you got it?!" Crisan now looked at him with desperation.

"This is my duty as your leader. If you die, if Jacques didn't wake up, if Fin didn't focus on his studies and if Annie and the others formed a sub-group, I'll fail." The male then grabbed the napkin Ruko just folded into a boat, and wiped his mouth.

A long silence met them. Zion is still frozen to his spot.

"Just...I need coffee."

And hey, they talked at the same time, with Crisan actually saying, "I need more coffee." The growl that was visible on the Russian's face intensified. "Ruko, stay with Jacques. I'll go help the others organize the things. Here's your fudging coffee, dammit."

A cold cup was shoved to his chest and before he knew it, Crisan walked out.

The remaining two shared a look so familiar that it needed no words. "I'll walk around."

The Japanese opened his mouth to protest, but he was already out of the door. He saw his friend's black scarf just disappear around the corner, and it was his best intention to go to the opposite way.

So.....Crisan, Fin and Ruko noticed.

All day, he just wonders what would happen next.  

 

 


	2. Nor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacques - vocal  
> Zion - rapper  
> Crisan - leader  
> Ruko - drummer  
> Fin - vocal  
> Annie - vocal  
> Haruha - keyboard  
> Aena - guitar  
> Axi - bass

"Zion?"

"Yeah?" the older one asked, placing his feet on the ground as he stopped the bicycle in the middle of the empty road. Looking behind him, he saw his bestfriend looking into the distance in an expression he cannot fathom.

"Hey, why?" he asked.

Jacques's eyes were stuck to the view from their place on the hill, where a town was visible not too far down below yet far enough to feel detached. The road they were in was an open cliff with a fence of barbed wires separating them from their town. Afternoon sunlight peeked through the diamond holes on the fence, and the shadows kissed their faces a shade from hour long bicycle trips.

"You think we could stay in this town?"

At this, the older raised his eyebrow. "Of course! We may get to the city or other countries but we could get back here anytime we want!"

Jacques must have known that he was bluffing. That was where he was wrong, and perhaps Jacques knew he was.

The younger just shook his head and started to turn his bike the other way, on the direction down the hill and back to the town. "Let's go home."

"Let's go home, Zi."

He suddenly jolted up at the touch on his face. White bedsheets greeted him, as well as a handーa moving, pulsing handーon his head, ruffling his hair.

"Ahh--!"

"Shh. You're too loud."

"J-jacques?!"

Indeed, the vocalist was awake.

Jacques was awake. The said vocalist stared down at him with eyes that were barely open, but they're still open. He tapped his head awake with a hand jammed with IV drips, but it was still moving.

"Yeah. I woke up."

"S-should I call someone--" He can't believe this. Jacques woke up! He had to tell someone. A nurse. A doctor. He'd even tell Crisan.

"No. They know I'm fine. I actually woke up earlier."

He frowned, but he settled down nonetheless. He sat back at the chair and leaned on the bed cautiously. "So does anything hurt? What did the doctors say? I cannot come earlier, I'm sorry. Crisan, Axi, Annie and Ruko must have--"

"I heard everything, Zion."

"You heard what?" he asked.

Jacques seemed different, but then again if you were almost kidnapped and got into a week-long coma, wouldn't you be different? He was thankful to the gods he wasn't sure existed that Jacques never had amnesia, nor had any serious injuries.

Thank them so much.

Jacques' sudden clenching of his fist brought Zion back to reality. "I heard what? I heard what?" the vocalist shut his eyes tight, almost scaring Zion of Jacques' temper. "I heard...everything."

The vocalist opened his eyes once more, staring at the ceiling as he had no other choice. He wasn't allowed to move much. Instead, he took in a deep breath and tried not to break his resolve. Zion needed someone strong and it would be him, if not Crisan or the others. Who else would it be? Even if he's the one stuck on the hospital bed with his head and left arm bandaged and his chest with stitches doesn't mean he cannot be strong too. The strong ones fight, even if they lose. It doesn't even matter if they win. They just have to fight.

And Jacques had been fighting for a week straight.

It was a silent fight, one of which only he knew.

"I heard everything. Crisan was worried the band with break apart. Fin doesn't just want to move back to Canada and wants to leave the band permanently too. Annie, Axi, Aena and Haruha were considering forming a subgroup, which resulted in Crisan being escorted out of this room by the guards themselves. It seemed only Ruko was the only one calm enough to actually notice I was reacting to what they're saying."

It was as if his world had been frozen for a second, his bestfriend's words the bullet that took a moment of time in a fraction of a second. He widened his eyes and kept them on the white bedsheets right ahead, where he would be able to control the waterworks best.

"And it's getting worse for you too, Zion."

He swallowed. "Of course not." He took a deep breath and found Jacques's IV drips interesting. "I was looking for Annie and Aena at the rooftop. They owe me my guitar picks."

"You admit you were at the rooftops then. I heard you cry too."

Shit, he's trembling. This time, he kept his mouth shut.

"Zion, everything was bad for me too until I entered the state of comatose. It gave me time to listen when I haven't. I learned more and it both hurts and relieves. I learned that everyone is suffering in our band and it's not just you and I."

He blinked, keeping the tears back where they're supposed to be.

"I'm sorry, Zion. I've never seen Crisan yet and tell him I'm sorry too."

At that point, he was curious and confused. "Why Crisan?"

"We got into a fight last week. He got seriously livid and he and I got into a fist fight. I'd rather not think about it right now. I'll tell you soon," he replied. "But I owe him one. If anything, he's suffering the most out of all of us."

Zion nodded.

He and Jacques met Crisan, Ruko, Annie and Fin back in Japan, in some festival Ruko handled. That's when it started. Crisan had always been that one friend that may or may not have bipolarity due to his weird sudden mood shifts, but generally he was either livid or confused. When they met the others, he seem to stabilize and expose his mischievous and jokester side more often, especially with people like Ruko and Fin to tolerate his antics.

Now that they thought about it, Crisan seemed far too weird and secretive. He doesn't mention his family or his childhood back in Russia. He also touched everybody's phone but nobody touched his.

How did the conversation even stir to Crisan?

"Now, about you, Zion."

He felt a finger poke at his face. "What about me?" he asked innocently.

Act dumb. Act dumb.

"You wanted to jump, don't you? That was why you were at the rooftop, yeah?"

Don't answer. Don't surrender.

Jacques sighed. "Fin saw you. He cried here and told me how he wanted to save you but he did not." He clicked his tongue. "Nevermind. You made it."

He made it?

He looked up, glancing at his friend. Jacques's eyes were stuck at the bright afternoon sun that peeked through the window and onto the bed, the cityscape windows reflecting it even more and almost blinded Zion if it wasn't for the orange glow and the nostalgic bliss.

"You're alive. You're here."

"Yes, but--" he stopped. The words slipped right past his lips and he took a deep breath, silencing himself. "Yes, but I don't think it is worth celebrating."

"Because it is still actively bothering you. I get it. I knew it. You know I always know."

He furrowed his eyebrows. What is Jacques doing? What is he trying to prove?

He decided to ignore it and steer the conversation to some other topic. "Who else visited?"

"Ruko, Annie, Aena, Axi, Haruha and you. I haven't heard from Crisan and Fin," the brunet answered quickly. "Speaking of, did you talk to Ruko yet?"

He shook his head. "No."

Jacques blinked. "That's a shame."

"Why?" he immediately asked, mind wandering of the possibilities that their bass could have done. Jacques waved him dismissively with the hand that wasn't stuck with the IV.

\--

The afternoon visit to Jacques was bizarre. He seemed he had a lot to say, but said other things but the things he wanted to. It was like he was talking to Ruko instead, with the bizarreness their drummer and Jacques had in common.

He looked back at the window of the cafe he stopped by to grab a quick snack. He doesn't want to come home either. He just needed to think, that's all.

Autographs, selfies and smiles for the jam of waitresses to calm down was enough, and he was seated at the backmost table with his head turned away from the people and just on the window.

"Koru--"

And he doesn't need Fin calling him right now out of all times.

"What?" he immediately asked.

"Hey, Zi. Where are you?"

He raised a brow. "The cafe. You know what I mean."

They used to share coffee at that same cafe when they made excuses to hang back at shoots. They never told the others, at least not that Zion knows.

"Oh. Okay. I...came from the hospital. I'll stop by."

"Why?"

"I just need someone to talk to."

The line suddenly hang up, making Zion stare at the black screen of his phone in confusion and wonder. What could Fin want to do this time? Talk about his Canadian visa again?

The store's bells rang almost a minute later, which he spent just stirring his half empty coffee cup around and around, his mind lost in his imaginations. His guess that the person that entered was their band's vocal, since the young Canadian appeared opposite of his seat on his table not too soon after.

"What's going on?" he immediately asked. Fin bumped his fist on Zion's already formed one, sighing as he laid his head on the table exasperatedly.

"My head hurts."

"Did you hurt yourself on the ceiling at the top of the bunk bed aga--"

"No! I exchanged beds with Annie. I got the bottom bunk now," the teen replied immediately, voice muffled by his arms thaf his head rested on. "Crisan got me drinking."

"What? Aren't you 18--"

"I'm 19 now! I got my Korean citizenship last year," the younger groaned, burying his head further down. "Crisan invited me over. He was knocked out. Hopefully Ruko could cover him and his alcohol up."

Zion frowned, shaking his head. Crisan is getting troublesome day by day. "This group is hopeless." He took a sip of his coffee and tapped the Canadian on his head lightly.

"What are you feeling? How's Crisan's vodka for you?"

The Canadian looked up, eyes narrowing at the sudden sunlight. "W-well, I mean, I already drink at Canada. With like, my dad and younger brother...vodka...I just--I may have not drank in a long time and...and," the Canadian paused, "hey! That's not even why I came here, you know."

"Then why?" the other asked. To be honest, all they talked about in their cafe escapades were their complaints about their famous lives and the masks they had to maintain on media. It was good at the beginning until problems started to arise.

"Crisan went to my apartment drunk last night. He kept drinking when he woke up and managed to have me take a few shots," Fin started murmuring. "He received a letter from the management confirming Annie, Aena, Haruha and Axi's subgroup. We all know that it might lead to the break of the group as a whole, so Crisan wasn't happy about it."

"They...did?"

Annie himself wasn't fond of Crisan since the beginning. He wasn't even a girl, like they expected at first. What arrived was a teenager that Crisan must have already met since they glared at each other since day one. Aena, Axi and Haruha were caught up in Annie and Crisan's fights until it became a four-against-one fight. He, Ruko, Fin and Jacques never really wanted to join the fight.

Crisan is both the glue that holds them together and the outside force that pulls them apart. What could be expected if they have an angry teenager as their leader?

Not that Crisan ever did anything bad. He was just wrong on so many levels which had "right" undertones. He just wanted to unite the group, what's wrong with that?

"Also, it wasn't just the group Crisan was drinking about," the Canadian buried his head once again into his arms. "I...I don't know how to tell you, really. I mean--"

"Just stop stalling, Fin. What happened?"

"Jacques."

"What happened to Jacques?" he asked far too quickly. He furrowed his eyebrows in inquiry, stopping momentarily from stirring his latte. He tapped the Canadian on the head, to which Fin reflexibly dodged and seemingly curved into a ball on the chair across from him.

"W-w-went..."

"He went where? What happened? What, Fin?"

His heart thumped at his chest in anxiety, fighting the urge to shake the Canadian in front of him or more precisely, run away and back to the hospital. Fin slowly looked up and the tears that sparkled at his eyelashes were never a good sign.

"He went missing."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Hennessy. Or anything but the characters and the plot. 
> 
> May write a second part in the future but this is good for now.
> 
> What even is life anymo--


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